The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 658: It is an honor to stand before the Lion Tribe’s goddess
If something was strange but useless, one could laugh and move on.
If something was strange and useful, then it had value.
A lot of value.
The messenger was already thinking, very quietly and very fast, that perhaps returning to his city with a report encouraging war would be foolish. Perhaps the better road would be to suggest caution. Or even alliance. If this woman could be turned toward a city’s interests, then whoever did it first would benefit greatly.
Of course, he did not say any of that.
He was not a fool.
By then, Kian, Cyrus, Zyran, and Osiris all stood near Isabella in different positions, creating a picture so obvious that even a blind man would have guessed these males would rip someone apart if she so much as frowned in the wrong direction.
Ophelia and Shelia had quietly moved to one side now, watching with bright eyes and pretending to be less interested than they actually were. They were failing terribly.
Once everyone settled properly, Isabella looked down at the messenger.
Her face was calm.
Inside, however, her ego was standing on a rooftop, hands on hips, soaking in the moment like sunlight.
"The whole world knows my name?" she thought. "As expected."
She almost wanted to smile.
Almost.
Thankfully, she had enough self-control not to beam like a fool in front of city people.
Still, Zyran saw the tiny shift in her eyes.
So did Cyrus.
That was enough.
Zyran immediately had to fight the urge to laugh.
Cyrus, too, felt warmth spread through his chest. Even after everything, even after danger, pregnancy, winter, village matters, and recent troubles, Isabella was still Isabella. Praise still fed her ego beautifully. She still liked being admired. She still looked secretly pleased when someone recognized her worth.
Honestly speaking, that was adorable.
The messenger bowed properly. "It is an honor to stand before the Lion Tribe’s goddess."
There it was again.
Goddess.
Isabella’s soul almost purred.
Her face remained straight.
"Yes," she said calmly, as if the entire world praising her was simply the correct state of things. "Speak."
That one word nearly made Zyran cough from holding back laughter.
The messenger introduced himself more carefully then, offering the formal phrases expected of men from greater places.
He stated that he came as a representative with ties to Fifth City and connected trade circles.
He spoke of distant talk, of rumors, of interest growing around the Lion Tribe. He praised the rise of the village. He praised its defenses. He praised its order. He praised, indirectly but quite clearly, Isabella herself.
As he spoke, Isabella listened with a composed face.
Inside, she was enjoying herself.
Very much.
It felt good to be spoken of like that. Why lie? Why pretend? Let lesser women pretend not to like flattery. She was not lesser women. If someone wanted to feed her ego properly, she was not going to stop them.
Beside her, Zyran looked away for a moment because he could already see the smug little fire growing quietly behind her calm eyes.
Cyrus lowered his head slightly, the faintest softness touching his expression.
The messenger continued, "Your name has spread widely. People speak of a goddess in a once small village, a woman wise enough to change the flow of winter itself. Many are impressed."
"Many should be," Isabella replied.
Luca nearly choked.
Shelia bit her lip.
Ophelia looked as if she might explode from delight.
The messenger, to his credit, did not falter. He only smiled politely, though inside his thoughts were moving rapidly.
So she accepted praise very directly.
Interesting.
Not shy.
Confident.
Possibly vain.
That could be useful.
What he did not understand was that Isabella was much more dangerous than merely vain. She did not just enjoy praise. She also knew how to listen through it.
So while he talked, while the room settled into the shape of formal conversation, Isabella began asking questions.
Simple ones at first.
Where had he traveled from exactly?
How many people did Fifth City send out regularly during winter?
How far did trade routes stretch at this time of year?
Did cities often trouble themselves with villages, or was this attention something special?
She asked them all in a tone that sounded so casual, so almost idle, that anyone stupid enough might have thought she was only filling space.
She was not.
The messenger answered carefully, but he still answered.
That was the thing about men who believed themselves polished. If they thought they were in control of the pace, they loosened.
He talked about roads, routes, trade difficulty, patrol arrangements, and city influence. He did not reveal anything openly dangerous. At least, he believed he didn’t.
Isabella listened and smiled faintly at the right moments.
Then, as if she had only just remembered, she tilted her head and asked, "A few weeks ago, a mountain beast was chased down and wounded. I heard strange things about hunters and city interests. Why would anyone want a beast like that so badly?"
The question landed softly.
But the room changed.
The messenger’s expression remained polite, yet there was the tiniest pause.
Too tiny for most to notice.
Not tiny enough for Isabella.
The answer came smoothly. Too smoothly. "That matter had nothing to do with us or our city."
A lie.
An obvious lie.
Isabella very nearly laughed.
This man really thought she was an idiot.
Instead of laughing, she only lifted one brow very slightly, then continued as if satisfied.
"I see," she said.
She was not satisfied.
She simply knew how to let a liar keep walking.
So she asked more.
About trade in rare things.
About how beasts from certain mountains disappeared.
About whether rare women ever vanished on roads between villages and cities.
About why certain clans seemed to become rumors instead of living communities.
The more she asked, the more the people in the room began to feel that the conversation was... odd.
Very odd.
